You didn't get this good at bluffing without being able to read people and situations, and right now, across the Horde, things were getting ugly. He sought out Grimper in relative privacy.

"Warlord, I would follow you anywhere in the world in the name of your victory. I have faced down Commanders, armies, unbranded wendigoes and cities. I have stood face to face with the toughest that the enemy has to offer and had them wilfully hand over the means of their own defeat to our Horde. I am absolutely loyal to you and to our cause, and the squad I command have been exceptionally effective in their assigned tasks. I will do whatever it takes to ensure that you, and the Unexpectable Horde, win."

He sighed, looking down at the ground for a moment, before raising his gaze to meet Grimper's.

"That last one is why I'm here, saying this. If the Horde is divided and uncommitted, if we're not focused like the deadly weapon we are for you, we run the risk of losing. Yes, you can order us all into battle, compel us by nail if need be, and we will go, but an army of Nailbound and quasi-Inhabited mindless drones will not be enough to achieve the objective. At our best, we are a terrifying chaos, a half-dozen ingenious mad schemes that the enemy just can't cope with. Phenomenally brave badasses pulling off miracles, even those who die proving spectacular inspiration to drive the rest to victory."

He paused again, gathering his thoughts, almost pained in his expression.

"Right now, we are very far from our best, and one of the biggest reasons for that is the two Thumbscrews that we didn't take, the ones less well defended than Noostra. The Hordelings are angry and restless because of that, and in truth I cannot for one moment blame them. The Horde needs to be rallied, brought back to task. Fear just isn't going to cut it, I saw a dozen ordinary mortal hordelings, a tiny handful of our people, face down a Commander, massively outclassed, and attack anyway. There are too many people brave enough to do things like that, our best and brightest, our leaders and idea havers, for trying to scare us into shape or nail us into line to be effective.

What we need is Truth. We need to have something that makes it clear why taking this Thumbscrew is a better strategic option than taking the other thumbscrews, why putting the Horde at a much higher risk of failure is worthwhile compared to having a better shot at doing our duty. Please, Warlord, I beg of you, give me something, anything that I can take to my Tö and to the Horde as a whole to convince them, to show that there's good reasoning behind why we're striking here rather than a place we can successfully take and hold to ensure our message gets through, and to guarantee we're well placed to complete our ultimate mission."

Noostra. The city rose above its surroundings, the large wall and spire visible for miles. Gryph had been eyeing it since it appeared, and as the medic wagon pulled to a halt, Gryph kept staring, his expression grim. The medic tent didn't need him to set up, and they were here for the long haul. Whatever happened, there would be more than enough work soon.

And the Fro medics were still locked up. Gryph had always wondered if they were planning another escape, but their first aborted attempt and subsequent pummelling seemed to cow them. Gryph worried about that, too. Not that he didn't sympathise with them, and were he in their position, he'd definitely be looking for the opportunity. But they'd seemed almost content to simply heal the Horde and put up with the fear, the cramped quarters, the strain of work. Maybe they were planning something, or maybe Zapanda had convinced them that they could continue their work. They had, and Gryph had seen Gado around camp, still quiet and infected, but alive and himself. That helped.

Grimper stomping up to the wagon and wrenching the doors open was a surprise to Gryph,as was the revelation that Zapanda was none other than the sister of Sikatris. But as Grimper laughed and stomped off, Gryph stared angrily after him, quietly seething. With a final glance at the Commander, Gryph lightly turned and knocked politely at the medic's door.

'Sorry 'bout Grimper, he's been in far too good a mood for a while. Seems to be elated that he might achieve something, even if he gets us all killed in the process. But I forgot to thank you. Gado's one of us, and you didn't have to help him. While we're here with nothing to do, can we talk? I want to know about Monsterism.'

Gabber inwardly huffed a sigh of relief that the standoff had (temporarily) not resulted in any bloodshed. As the Warlord so kindly pointed out, they were currently on the Grimper Rollercoaster and there was no way to exit early except by jumping off. If anything were to be done about their Warlord, it would have to be timed correctly. As much as they dragged their feet, the Unexpectables were going to Noostra to meet their fate, so Gabber was glad to see no actual physical altercation had occurred.

-----------------

By nature of his sealed mouth, Gabber largely stayed out of the discussions taking place on their course of action. He didn't get paid to talk - in fact, given he was conscripted he wasn't being paid at all right now. He trusted that the Captains would do what they could to guard the Horde as best they could. All Gabber could do was do his best, try not to get killed, and maybe, just maybe, find some way to get off some sort of message to the Regency Council about Grimper's continuing rash decision making. The fact that he was deadset on Noostra when two other Thumbscrews were possibly easier targets boiled the mimics blood, but what could be done about it now?

When the Captain gave her speech, Gabber nodded along. He hadn't really been seeing eye to eye to his Captain lately on attempting to dissuade the Warlord, but he admired her drvie to shield and protect the Horde in whatever way she could. He wasn't sure what the Captain may be planning, but if they agreed on one thing it seemed, it was that their trust in Grimper was waning fast. Gabber would follow Grimper's orders here as he had no choice, but if things came to a head in Noostra Gabber would give serious consideration to anything the Captain attempted.

------------------

Gabber doesn't have much to say (hah) about any of the various plans - he'll do whatever his Captain decides is the best course of action for the Knights. Regarding Humbug - Snoop, Humbug, Snoop!

Task Manager fucked around with this message at Feb 12, 2018 around 16:17

Noostra (Part 2): Verika was veritably confused by all the different strategies being presented at first, but the more she listened to the Captains in their dialogue, the more their tactical instincts began to make sense.

"There's not that many of us, it's true." Verika admitted. "So we'll have to be quick about this and we'll have to stick together if we want to minimize casualties."

"I'm with Stårn, Noggins, and Snödis on this," affirmed Verika. "Let's focus on breaking down that gate and THEN we can split up if we have to!"

Verika changes her vote from a Three-Pronged Assault and votes instead for a Single-Vector Attack on one gate.

Voting Results posted:

Intel - 3Snoop - 6
Strike team - 4
Gate - 1

Humbug let one last white-wisped sigh escape into the morning air. The Unexpectables were counting on him. Which meant they were counting on Humbug the Sleuth, not some lily-livered spy. He wasn't one to leave a mystery like those empty streets alone. Commander Sikatris was up to something, and he was the only one in position to figure out what that was before the Horde got stuck in. Mildly self-conscious, the detective reached into his inner coat pocket and retrieved a pen and notepad, minor loot from Nägel's labs. He jotted down a few of his most important observations, hurriedly. He could not have too much time left.

Humbug's Note posted:

Refugees mention having Sikatris and something other, unspecified, to defend Noostra.
Refugees denied entry. Medical camp set up at Sand Gate.
Secret murder hole ramps in roof of Sun Gate entrance. 5f in 10f left from center. Very hard to spot.
City streets conspiciously emptied. Citizens (?) seem locked in homes.
Commander Sikatris present at head of city square, sitting, waiting.
Worry that the enemy is employing traps, ambush or other strategy. Entering city proper to pursue further leads.
-HB

He tore out the note, curled it up and threw it over the wall to flutter and land near the fallen soldier. There was no way the Unexpectables would find it - but it gave him a skein of an excuse to press on. Some would not appreciate his decision to carry on. Splut in particular would probably think him a fool, and other things besides, to not return with tangible gains and instead waste his intel on deeper scrutiny. But the situation was what it was, and Horde consisted of more than just the Captain of Infiltrators. There were those who'd have his back, for a variety of reasons.

--------

Hob, for example. One of the Good Ones. He had constantly risked life and limb, became a Wendigo by accident, was fixed and remade by the Vile Mechanism of the Oldies at the cost of his core... in short, he'd suffered incredible ordeals, and despite it all his outlook had stayed positive. If he was here, he'd say 'Go for it, Humbug!'

--------

Jö the Butcher's constant cheerful chatter would also have egged him on. The Frö was blithingly earnest, despite his Nailbound state. It gave Humbug and the others a look into the life of the average Frö before they and Grimper had tromped into Fostis. If Jö had been here, he'd be pointing out banal facts about life in Noostra, like some addled tourist tour guide, and suggesting he'd visit the closest market.

If nothing else, he'd be confused why Humbug was hesitating to enter Noostra. They were such wealthy and welcoming people there.

--------

Snödis' suggestion, meanwhile, would have come without delay. Press on in. The Neotype Captain was to varying degrees mad, but she was no fool. She'd recognize what he did - that something was amiss. Her beliefs were wrong, but she played them straight, and was willing to risk her life, or at any rate other lives, for them. Humbug couldn't even deny that her original Plan - however terrible and made moot by Sikatris' extreme security measures - would've been a good way for the Unexpectables to gain a critical edge. Noostra was simply too large to be fought conventionally by their simple Horde.

No, Snödis' would've pushed him on. Better he die triggering some ambush, than any of her Neotype 'Friendigoes'.

--------

Gado, on the other hand, was not so insane. He was just a poor sonovva ditch-digger caught up in events larger than himself - like so many of the Horde. Picked on by Grimper himself, pushed towards greatness, it was no surprise that he'd tried to be clever and grasp the power inherent in becoming a Branded Wendigo. Due to his poor timing, and poorer forethought, he now lived on borrowed time. It would take a small miracle for him to see the end of this, although thanks to Zapanda's work, the Horde had at least a few of those on hand.

Gado wasn't in the best of states mentally, but whenever Humbug came around he'd seem to chin up and regain some of his old self. Thus, if the Digger had been here, he'd urge Humbug forward. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

--------

Ringo - that reckless rascal - was also taking too much of a burden on his shoulders of late, and it showed. The decatö was getting more distant, and Humbug wasn't sure if it was because of the respect and deference people now gave him - forgetting he should be as Tö on the inside as any of them - or if what the Vile Mechanism had done was actually playing havoc with his moods. Either way, Ringo probably would've enjoyed the hell out of leaving his new burdens behind for a romp through an enemy town.

If he'd been here, they'd already have been down on the ground and two streets up.

--------

Gabber said nothing, but was vocal in his own way, and brave, too, as befit a Knight. Humbug, as a reader of body language, understood well that the Mime was a surprisingly intelligent individual with complex motivations. He could put more thought into his own lack of words than many could put into speeches. While he wasn't, by a short straw, one of those Humbug considered the Good Ones, he certainly had the potential.

If he'd been present, Gabber would've looked at the silent city ahead, understood the trouble it meant, and given Humbug the tiniest of nods.

----------------------

Knowing that all manner of Hordelings, Neotypes, Knights, Decatö, Nailbound, would have given him some manner of go-ahead, despite the cost of precious intel, Humbug began his climb down into Noostra's empty streets. Whatever danger waited there might swallow him - but he had his hat and his skillcore, and a bottle of the last best brew one ever drank, if it came to that.

Grimper, showing a by-now-familiar lack of awareness, was taken aback by the grumbling passing through his Horde. How dare they question his strategem? “Yes, in my wisdom I decided we'd head to the Noostran Thumbscrew, bypassing the two others that would take us days off course, opting to take the most ambitious path to our goal. I had come to assume that my Horde was growing a spine, that the heady rush of Glory was burning away the last of the peasantry clinging to your bodies like a husk. Clearly I was mistaken! Great things are accomplished by those who push themselves, while the cautious are left behind. In your guts, you know I speak true! Your Skillcores - you've had them all your lives, and only with me, under my rule, have they blossomed. Your very body feeds on risk, on danger - and those who survive this crucible will be legendary.” A chorus of chatter raised in response to his pronouncement, so he stomped one foot hard enough to stagger those around him. “ENOUGH. We can hold a formal discussion when we've taken what we need from this place. Keep in mind that Noostra, while a necessary part of our plans, is a mere stepping stone on the way to the Gateway Fortress. We must make haste here. Captains, my Horde, what have you got for me?”

Unwilling to accept Grimper’s logic, but more unwilling to push it further right here, right now, while the enemy gazed down upon them, the Unexpectable Horde solidified their shaky plan. It was clear that staying together was a sure way to be surrounded, and only by splitting their forces and harassing the citizenry did they stand a realistic chance of accomplishing their objectives. While trading Zapanda for Thumbscrew use was raised, Grimper laughed in the faces of those who suggested it, so hard and so loud that it was dropped without further discussion. And so, despite the strong possibility of a trap, the Horde would be going in through the front door. The Sun Gate was heavily guarded, but the city would only have had scant days to prepare themselves for an attack from that angle - the last true intelligence Noostra would have had from them put them in Fostis, and the Horde had had to haul rear end to swing by Oxnyard. It was entirely possible that the defenders had arrayed themselves around the Seed Gate instead, and had to hustle their gear through the city to shore up the defenses from their unexpected attack. At least, that’s what the Warlord proposed, and like it or not that was their avenue of attack. Who knows, perhaps he was right… this time. Unlike the others.

Morale was fraught, a very poor time for it to be so, but the Horde began to feel the old battle lust sinking down over them. The Rituals burned into them grew sharper in focus as battle loomed, and this promised to be their greatest battle yet. It was somewhat unsettling that their infiltrator hadn’t yet returned, but they knew he, at least, he could be trusted.

---
Hours earlier, Humbug chewed his lip as he considered what he ought to do. Push on, or retreat with his intelligence. In the end, his decision was made for him - he hadn't really learned anything yet, so he had to press on. The trinkets he'd picked up from his cursory examination weren't tactically valuable enough to justify the risk anyhow. He scribbled a quick note and tossed it over the edge before he moved in the opposite direction. He hopped from the wall to a nearby crenellation, and from there to a building’s roof… then froze, for a moment deathly afraid that it was a trap. He waited for nearly ten minutes, but no alarms were raised, no fanfares, no trained murderous butterflies. He took a deep breath and pushed onwards.

He crept along the rooftops, his belly scraping the slate tiles, and listened. He listened for the telltale sounds of armed men, of sword against shield, nervous coughing, metal-shod boots clattering against tile. Nothing. Well, not nothing, but not that. He heard soft voices from below, concerned civilian chatter. He caught snatches: “-Horde com- es, only if neces- Sikatris will sa- tell her to keep quiet!” Useless. With a final burst of courage (and a quick scan of the area), he flipped his way down over the edge of the roof, hung there for a second, gauging the distance, then dropped a dozen feet onto a folded pile of cloth on a wooden cart. A market stall, maybe, abandoned when they were warned of the Horde’s coming? It hadn’t been hastily left, though, and seemed folded away purposefully. There were several others lining the street on both sides, and he spent a moment wondering about them. It occured to him he didn’t actually know a lot about the place. Their lack of intelligence would harm his efforts, because he couldn’t know if this was an anomaly for the area or some sort of damned farmer’s market. He rolled off the cart and pressed himself against a wall until he was satisfied that no one was coming.

Walking the empty streets of Noostra was extremely unsettling. The windows of the buildings around him were barred and shuttered, and at no point was he harassed by enemy soldiers. He didn’t feel the civilians watching him either, though every once in a while he could hear their whispers. Was the Horde really so frightening that all they could do was hide? He literally could not believe that, but what other explanation was there? The only person he’d actually seen was (he assumed) Sikatris, and she seemed to be in no rush either. He knew he was roughly heading in her direction, but the streets were so labyrinthine that the only way he could orient himself was the massive Thumbscrew Relay. He could see a light on top of it pulsing, and he thought he could feel it in his teeth. He was so distracted looking up he nearly tripped over a thin blue wire stretching across the street an inch or two off the ground. A tripwire? Far too loose to activate a trap, he thought. It stuck on his boot, and he absentmindedly bent to unhook it.

Somehow, he got tangled. He swore, looking from side to side, and gave the line a good yank. It came off his boot - but then looped around one finger. He drew his knife to cut it, but the line tugged him, coiling around his other wrist hard enough to make him gasp. He tried to pull away, but the line flicked like a snake, pulling him off his feet then dragging him screaming down the cobbles. Somehow, he stayed aware, he kept his eyes open. The square. It was pulling him towards the square! He struggled to escape, but the more he pushed the more it bit into his flesh. Finally, he stopped moving. He coughed and spat out blood and dust and inched himself up off the ground to look around. He saw the square at the base of the Thumbscrew, he saw the twin fountains gushing away even in the frosty air, and he saw… her.
He glanced down at his bindings - wool? - and followed them to her tapping finger. She chuckled, but no sound issued from her shaded face. Instead Humbug felt and saw text crawl before his eyes, nearly identical to when Grimper had done the same trick on him earlier. Only, her ‘voice’ in this place rasped against his mind, leaving him with an instant, splitting headache: THE FIRST OF THE FLIES ENTERS MY WEB. FOOLISH CREATURE, MISGUIDED AND LOST. WERE IT ANY OTHER WAY, THIS WOULD BE SO MUCH EASIER. AS IT STANDS, I DO WHAT I MUST. the Sleuth kicked and wriggled to free himself but could not resist as he was hoisted up into the air by a line as strong as steel.

(Welp! First contact, at least! Humbug is temporarily out of the game, though things don’t look super bright for him right now. It goes without saying that his intelligence is unavailable to the group because he didn’t get away with it!)

---
Shortly before the battle, Gryph the Medic stole his way over to Zapanda's wagon with a hammer. He knew, he knew this was a terrible idea, but in this there was a risk of something greater in doing nothing. He knocked quietly, then surreptitiously pried the nails out of the door and clambered inside. It was a measure of their utter defeat that none tried to escape, but they looked at him with naked hatred. Zapanda, ever the leader, took point. “What do YOU want? Physician, heal thyself!” Gryph didn't rise to the insult, only thought for a second, then laid his cards on the table.

quote:

'Sorry 'bout Grimper, he's been in far too good a mood for a while. Seems to be elated that he might achieve something, even if he gets us all killed in the process. But I forgot to thank you. Gado's one of us, and you didn't have to help him. While we're here with nothing to do, can we talk? I want to know about Monsterism.'

Silence reigned for a second, then they fell into an excited huddle. Gryph held back respectfully, though he deeply wished he could hear their words. He got the sense that his words had struck home, though he hadn't at all been certain that they would. Finally, Zapanda turned back and motioned for him to sit. The others busied themselves with a flurry of paper and diagrams, but the intensity of her gaze kept his eyes locked on hers. “I can't trust you, obviously, but I can't let this opportunity slip by. I've seen you work, you know. Diligent and clean, I can respect that, even if I can't respect your charges. War is a cancer on this world sure as any earthly sickness, and a waste besides: in another time, you and I could have been comrades… but enough prattle. I have a proposal for you: my comrades are assembling copies of my research to give to you. You can read them at your leisure - though I pray you, in secret - but at your nearest convenience, in a secure, public location… leave it behind. Grimper will kill us when he’s done, I know it, and our knowledge can’t be allowed to be lost. Nagel is as good as lost, and the fool warden ruined everything by releasing the subjects. Those locked down there are good as dead, now that you have the key. It’s too late for them…”

She lurched forwards and seized him by the shoulders, her eyes boring into his. “But it’s not too late for us. For this!” She waggled two tightly wound packages of notes wrapped around two thick syringes. “Leave this somewhere it can be found when the Horde passes by, and strike a blow against Monsterism and Rampancy. I know Frö is your enemy… but we don’t have to be. One day this war will end, and those who work towards a brighter future will be remembered long after the killers on both sides are dust.” She looked startled then, pressed the packages into his hands, then ushered him out. The attack was to begin, and the time for talking had passed.

---
Humbug hadn’t returned, but time was up. It was now or never. Attack, or lose momentum as the city poured out its thousands in a wave of bodies and swallowed them up. “We will pierce through the Sun Gate and dive for the tower. Nailbound, heed me. Collect a Sacrifire compound each from Magda. She will waive the cost. Disperse yourself amongst the rest of the Horde. When you recieve the signal, sacrifice yourself to clear the path.” Without a question, the Nailbound did just that. To the others, Grimper said, “So. This is how we’re going to do it.”

Hit The Gate - Difficulty 60
“There’s nothing complicated about this. They don’t want to let us in, but we’re experts at this by now. Let’s just smash it over and over until we get in. Speaking of which…”

ONAGER - [Difficulty 10]
“I know you’ve all been waiting to use this beast, and this is an ideal moment. Either hit the wall or fling something into the city beyond.”

Climb The Wall - Difficulty 30+++
“They have the walls manned by archers and spearmen, and they’re not going to want to let you through the gate. So climb those drat walls and pull them down to earth!”

Search For Secret Passages - Difficulty 10+++++
“I’ve heard rumblings about your connections to the the underworld or your breaking and entering abilities and all that. Fine. Find a way inside.”

Whip Up Some Portable Siege Defenses - Difficulty 5+
“Mantelets could cover our approach. Think you can make some in short order?”

Guard The Wagons - Difficulty 5
“Boring job, but someone has to do it - there’s a very real chance they’ll circle around us and hit at our wagons. You wouldn’t want to lose poor Magda or our medical slaves, would we!?”

Cover The Othersl - Difficulty 30
“While the others are focusing, we need a group to keep an eye out for the Horde as a whole.”

Be Big drat Heroes - [Difficulty 1x] [RECKLESS]
“I know you. You and you. Do something crazy, make me proud.” (Pick one of the other options and go nuts. The ‘x’ is a step up from the ‘+’ - it adds +1d100 to the opposed roll rather than +1d10! Good luck. Success here will boost the Banner Bonus!)

Dog Kisser fucked around with this message at Feb 14, 2018 around 04:44

The Horde needed a way in? Portha finally had an excuse to sit out the hard work and use her natural skill at finding things people had hidden. She ran up to the wall hoping the rest of the horde would cover her and started prodding at suspicious sections of the wall with a spare stick.

Sacrificing the Nailbound. Of course that was the extent of Grimper's plan. Of course. What else would it possibly be? What other plan could be so cruel and short-sighted? What more could she possibly expect from the Warlord? Warlord. The word said it all, really. Frö had Commanders, and while she wasn't about to vouch about their individual personalities, their skillsets at least had purpose outside of bloodshed. Tö had Warlords, who were good for... war. For Breaking things. And not much else. What was the point of it all? Sure, Reina was dead, but was that really a reason for thousands more to die? Would she have wanted that? If she was the sort of person who would want that, was she really worth doing it for?

Lost in thought as she was, Noggins barely registered that her steps had taken her to the lumber wagon, that she'd pulled Jaune's tools from her belt and begun to work. She started slowly, but soon began to rapidly pick up speed, her hands becoming a blur of precise motions as a pile of wooden mantelets began to stack up next to her. She almost hit her own finger when she realized just what she doing, but the recent resonations of her skillcore kept the blow on track, the nail driving straight into the wood in a single strike. She considered this for a moment, and then took a quick look around. Despite everything, it looked like she'd attracted a bit of a crowd. She took a deep breath, and then began to speak.

"Look. I'll make no secret of it. I don't like the plan, I don't like the situation, and hell, I don't like this war. You all know that. And I know that there's been talk about me because of that. People saying that I care more about Frö's civilians than I care about you guys. I get that. It's a fair criticism to make. We're just trying to survive, and here I'm making it harder for us by ruling out options. It's not a great look! I get it. But I think we have to look past just surviving. We're not a bunch of rabid slinkers! We're Töans, dammit! We're better than that! And this is just me talking, but I want to live a life that I can be proud of. I want to be able to look at the decisions I made and know that however it turned out, I did the right thing. That I tried to be the good person I aspire to be! And if I stand by while people are having nails driven into their skulls, or civilians are murdered, or Monsterism is spread... then I've already failed to be that person." She paused, and tossed a completed mantelet out into the crowd. "But I also can't be that person if I break my promises. And I made a promise to all of you, even if Gryph was the only one around when I made it the first time. I promised that I would protect every last one of you. And I will. All of you. Every. Single. One. And whatever else you might think of me, I want you to know that I take that seriously. And so do the Knights. They'll be Covering all of you out there. We've got your backs."

She trailed off as a figure moved behind the crowd, carrying a bottle of Sacrifire. She gave a meaningful look to her impromptu audience, and craned her neck.

"Hey! Jö! Yeah! Over here! Look, I know what Grimper told you earlier, but it turns out there's been a real mistake, you weren't supposed to be part of that. Confusing, I know. Look, how about you hand that Sacrifire off to someone else for safekeeping, and come help me with these mantelets. I could really use your assistance!"

'Ah, Sacrifice, was it? That's one heck of a cutthroat move,' thinks Waesh. 'Can see why he wanted to get right to it, now.' Well, he had his orders. 'Look alive, ladies,' he yells, 'We can leave the nailbound to take the gate, use those mantelets, any of our archers can keep them pinned atop the wall so I can climb up and take down those archers!' As he sprints up to the wall, spinning his grappling hook, bloodlust rising, he hopes that he can at least make it to the top of the drat wall. It'd be downright unheroic to have his hook thrown off and plummet to his death, something you usually wouldn't have to worry about in ship to ship combat. Sword between his teeth, he hurls his hook and begins to ascend.

Noostra (Part 3): Verika and the other Knights had been ordered by their Captain Noggins to protect the horde's flanks and to keep an eye on everything going on. There were the gate-crashers, the wall climbers, the siege launchers, the secret-hatch seekers, the mantelet makers, and the caravan guards. Then there were those making sure everything was running smoothly and covered and according to plan. Verika was going to be in this last group. Everyone would be covered this way. Verika would keep an eye out for anything and everything that might be out of order, as ordered. She rode Blixthäst around the perimeter of the horde and helped whip everyone into a battle frenzy.

It was happening! Noostra was here! Ready or not, here we come! Verika readied her bow and joined in on the charge, providing covering fire and looking out for dangers.

Hob went ahead and did as he has suggested: Spot for the others making their entrance. He was about to kick away when he checked over to Snodis, waving him down. Orders.

A salute- "Captain". He sat, listening to her orders. Took the banner with an awed look. "Thank you Captain, I won't let you down." He passed over his chrysalis for safekeeping (with the banner it was getting too heavy for the tanwing).

Affixing it to the back of his harness with helpful clips and straps, he set off with new purpose.

Flying overhead, he got a view of the top of the wall, of the wall face. Watching for movement. Bow ready. Ready to sing out a warning for the others and send down an arrow, not to hit, but to warn of the enemy location.

It had come to this. Grimper's study of war left something to be desired, from the perspective of the rank and file. Cause's understanding of war was of strength against weakness, the army, and indeed the warlord, as a knife to the belly, while the foe's strength expended itself where you had prepared to defend. How long could the Unexpectables last, pitting themselves against strongpoints, seeking glory at every turn? If this was how all of To made war.... Then Cause may have chosen the wrong side.

But the quisling's path was set. And finding a path was an opportunity to use his education, the dark river at the heart of Cause's betrayal. The walls, the plains outside them, the gatehouses, ramparts, guardhouses, and barracks.... all told a story. If there was a secret entrance to Noostra, Cause would find it.

Well, he'd tried. 'Diverting for days off course to get to them' was something he could use, but Grimper's delivery left a lot to be desired. As did his plan: He knew the Nailbound were deserters and Frö, but it still seemed like a colossal waste of resources to use them as overcharged boomsticks. Enough. He needed Grimper and the Horde to succeed, despite themselves if need be. He worried about Humbug, though he knew the sleuth was a smart and canny Tö, and he trusted him to do what he thought was best. The heart and soul of being an Infiltrator was being able to act upon your own initiative far from the support of the Horde, and he would never second-guess his people. If he'd got himself in trouble? If one of the ruddy bastards had him beaten up in a cell somewhere? The OGs would be more merciful to his captors than Splut would be. The Infiltrators looked after their own, and avenged them if necessary.

"Infiltrators! We're going to find a better way in, preferably before we lose the Nailbound. That's our orders, use whatever means necessary to gain ingress to Noostra. Secret doors, sally ports, murder holes, anything. Everyone else, if you follow my order in this regard then I consider you to be my chosen fifth Infiltrator, with commensurate benefits. As for me, I'm going to ask nicely."

He donned the Lifemask, partitioning the Craic persona in his mind for maximum exploitation. He headed out around the wall, away from the activity at the Gate, to find any Frö up at the crenellations. Exuding the camaraderie of Craic, he called up,

"Hey there! You know who I am, you know all we've been through together. It's absolutely vital that I get back inside the city right now, or we're all going to suffer for it. I'm not going to let that happen on my watch! Quickly, you know where to go, just like last time..."

Coldly, he analysed the Craic memories as they formed, seeing if they included the information they sought. Ideally, his charm offensive would work and he'd be shown in through a secret entrance, but even if it didn't pay off, perhaps the new past history he shared with his target on the wall would give them what they needed.

OOC: From what I can recall no one ever claimed that bottle of Mushbrëwm I offered up two votes ago - so what the hell, Gabber will chug it before battle to try and calm his nerves. You do not want to know how he does this.

So it had begun. Giving the Captain a firm salute from atop his steed (who still needed a name....Gabber would think of one if he survived Noostra), Gabber set off at a gallop in the opposite direction of Verika along the perimeter of the Horde. If Verika was the Eyes of Knights, Gabber was the Ears, and so he tuned his hearing as best he could to pick up on any advance threat bearing in on the Horde. This would surely be the most important battle of his life, and he would need all the luck and skill he could muster here if he was to survive.

For now though, he would protect. As he rode around the perimeter, he occasionally banged his sword against his shield as he was want to do, trying to keep morale high - but also to try and make himself a more tempting target. How far he had come from the cowardly mimic who would have rather feigned death than make himself such a target. A smile smile crept up his face as he rode along.

Bamboo nodded ever so slightly upon hearing Grimper’s order of battle, and slipped away from the rest of the Horde without as much as a ‘by your leave’.

She felt it in her bones; Noostra would be the place where she’d either find a way to resurrect The Pawns, or, die in the attempt.

No way out now, except through.

Enough had been said disparagingly about her, and by extension, her lost Family; she would abide by it no longer.

Time to show why the Pawns still mattered; time to show why She still mattered.

*****

In moments of crisis, such as when your home was about to be invaded, the wealthy, the well connected, and the criminal (often one and the same), look to what’s most important; namely, their survival, and the retention of their wealth.

Which meant, getting out of harm’s way by discreet means.

All Bamboo had to do was locate such means, and find a way through.

Such passages would not be right at the city walls; that would be ridiculous. Tunnels winding to nearby caves, groves, rivers, grottos, ravines, sewer exits, that was what she’d be hunting for.

It was hiding the ‘indoors’ via the ‘outdoors’, and fortunately, Bamboo was skilled in such efforts.

Mason, realizing that everyone is starting the attack, drops his nose mining and pretends to look busy at the Onager. He doesn't know how to use it, but he figures that flipping switches and flailing around will get it eventually to work!Flailing with the Onager!: 1d100+37102

Skronk evaluated the situation with brief consideration. Where would the most glory be had? As he surveyed the army's siege equipment,it hit him- aiding the ram team and smashing the gates would be the most glorious of tasks,even if it involved spilling no blood.

"I shall aid with smashing the gate down! Skronk bellowed enthusiastically,clutching the front end of the ram. "Who will join me?!"

Gado is more than a little vindicated when Grimper laughs in the face of those willing to trade away his source of AntiMon, he can't exactly remain pleased though when the realization that the horde could have simply hit another Thumbscrew dawns on him.

There wasn't time for whining about misfortune right now however, with Grimper's "plan" set in motion there was only time to act lest the incompetent Warlord get back to crushing his own troops again.

With a direct order for the Onager's use in place, Gado hops to it. The rickety beast wouldn't be doing a drat thing with nothing to fire, so Gado begins to dig a trench around a nearby sunken boulder of a decent size. The catapult might see some use from Grumbus' sludge here soon, but also slamming a giant rock into stuff never hurt the Horde's chances.

quote:

Digging up some ammo for Firing the Onager at Starn's target:73 (Bonus applied assuming Starn orders to fire)

After Grimper shut Sucy's idea down hard...Neebs was sure that Grimper was glory-mad. Unfortunate. Well, better to face Fröans than to face Grimper.

Neebs sauntered closer to Sucy and said in a low voice, trying to keep the conversation between the two. "It was a good idea. Don't worry about Gado being upset at you, he sealed his own fate; and you absolutely shouldn't feel bad for whatever happens to him. Maybe that's heartless of me, but there's enough other people in the horde that need help." Neebs nodded at the nailbound. "And Gado has already taken medical attention away from those who need it", Neebs said as she motioned at those who were still wounded.

When the plans were more formalized, Neebs took a giant drink from one of her always handy wine-skins and joined Skronk on the Ram . Alcohol always seemed to make her braver when it came to things like this, even if it made her clumsier.

After having spoken to the crowd, Jo went to do what he said. It was a market day, so he went out to head to the market. He started walking to the gate to head in. He had a lot to do but little time to do it before the market was over for the day! If he made enough boar-meat sales, he was sure to have enough money to make this trip with it!

Nailbound, heed me. Collect a Sacrifire compound each from Magda. She will waive the cost. Disperse yourself amongst the rest of the Horde. When you recieve the signal, sacrifice yourself to clear the path.”

He'd forgotten his pack! Of course he had! Sometimes, he felt like he would forget his head if it wasn't NAILED IN PLACE attached to his neck. Luckily, the caravan leader "Grimper the really bad at his job The Powerful Warlord" had reminded him to go grab it. What a great guy, that Grimper!

So Jö went over to Magda and grabbed his items from the storage, including the sacrifire secret surprise she'd wanted him to have. It was obviously the local booze she wanted them all to have to celebrate the end of this part of the caravan, poorly camouflaged. She didn't hide that very well though. Magda, what a kidder!

He started walking towards the market again when Captain Noggins called him over.

"Hey! Jö! Yeah! Over here! Look, I know what Grimper told you earlier, but it turns out there's been a real mistake, you weren't supposed to be part of that. Confusing, I know. Look, how about you hand that Sacrifire off to someone else for safekeeping, and come help me with these mantelets. I could really use your assistance!"

Well. Jo couldn't say no to that. Noggins was nice enough to him during the trip to Noostra and she was so young. Sometimes, the youth just needed an extra pair of experienced hands to help out. He was on a schedule, but Jö felt like he could help out for a bit. He was expert enough to do so quickly. So he handed off the sacrifire secret potion to a random mook passing by and jumped in.

Ringo took off like a shot. There wasn't time to hesitate anymore, only getting into the city before the Noostrans brought the hammer down. The horde was going to get shot to ribbons though, if someone didn't do something about it. He slung his shield and wendigoad to his back, and leapt onto the smooth face of the wall, where Waesh was already making steady progress. His eyes picked out minute handholds and crevices that had been worn into the stone from weather and age. "Everyone, follow our lead! We're going straight to the top!"

Having left the Banner with Hob together with orders to stay safe and visible for the benefit of the horde, and having taken the precious Crimsonwing Chrysalis in return, Snödis prepared herself for the deadly trials ahead.
Making sure her new Basker Claw Boots were securely fashioned to her feet, she joined her hordemates in the frantic rush towards the wall, confident that her many sharp edges would grant her the edge needed to climb the slick edifice.

Well, this was it. The plans had been drafted, another battle was starting. Trinh had remained quiet through the arguments with Grimper. She wasn't happy with them having passed the less protected relays but Grimper was doing this for himself. It was not like he could be swayed with words. The charge was about to start but Trinh took a moment to look back at the warlord. Could he be swayed with words? She wasn't quite sure what to think of him. The man was terrible for sure, but she couldn't work up outright anger at him like Hat had done.
For all his flaws Trinh had held appreciation for him ever since Nägel. Back when he'd rounded up what would become the Neötype troops and... branded them. Before that Trinh had mainly been afraid of the warlord but in that moment she had felt, well, almost respected by him. Maybe it was just her egotism speaking but that made her feel special. It was probably selfish to focus on that, to weight that moment heavier than the horrors Grimper had inflicted upon the Frö. The nailbound marched past Trinh with bottles of sacrifire in their hands. After all it was only luck that separated Grimper's favorites and his victims from each other. That was the thing wasn't it, luck? She had gotten lucky and the Frö unlucky. Wasn't that all the world boiled down to?

But what about Grimper himself. Was he lucky or unlucky? Back in Fostis after Agenou had fallen the warlord had been unusually grim.

quote:

Warlords? Warlords are built for war. For breaking. For Breaking. I am a living weapon...

It had almost sounded like he was reassuring himself more than anything else.

...they shall march out of my laboratory and sweep away every adversary, every creed, every nation, until the very planet is in the loving grip of the Pax Bisonica. And then peace will reign, and the world, and all humanity, shall bow to me in humble gratitude...

Captain Stårn grimaced. He couldn't really agree with the plan to disperse after breach, for he was convinced they needed to maintain cohesion for optimal penetration. Alas, he had to work with what he had. He reviewed his surroundings, and smiled a little to himself as the Horde made off with the Ram without him even having to prompt them. Truly, the love of Sieging was spreading through them at delightful rate! As for him, and Siege Team 6, they would man the Önäger and time their launch at the gate at the optimal juncture, not so late as to hit their own troops, but not so early that the defenders could reinforce any done damage. Yes.

"Grumbus", he said, "Spare the Sludge Ammo. It is better spared for field confrontation. The boomsticks shall suffice for now."

Gado was already at work digging boulders, which was good, but the rest still needed an order. Captain Stårn cleared his throat. He bellowed, ever as he rose up on his butterfly for optimal rangefinding and battlefield awareness.

"Siege Team 6", he begun, "Man the Önäger, and BREAK DOWN THAT GATE!"

Siege Team Six is ordered to Man the Önäger, and they gain +10 to that regardTiming to time the perfect Önäger Shot at the gate from top of my Butterfly: 1d100+50=69

Pythag clucked his tongue, setting his mount, Erymanthos, into motion. Despite all his efforts, the large pig still retained a bit of wildness. Occasionally simply doing whatever it wanted regardless of its riders instructions. "Ah well. What better a beast for an Unexpectable, hm?" Today, however, Ery was thankfully in a mood to be guided - maybe he sensed the blood in the air. His ferocity and mobility would add to Pythag's ability to cover the battlefield. Keeping an eye on the other Knights, he positioned himself toward the city, tense as he waited, one arrow knocked in his Bowharp - ready to let loose at the first enemy fly to buzz its way into the open.

While Grimper's rejection of her plan didn't surprise Sucy, his callous sacrifice of the nailbound members of the Horde disgusted her to her cores. Sacrificing the Nailbound just to take down a gate was monstrous. The nailbinding itself was bad enough, but throwing their lives away when the horde had two Önäger and a ram was uselessly cruel and wasteful.
But maybe there was something she could do about it. She had seen the makeshift sacrifires Magda had kept in her wagon, and they leaked the same weird fluid that Grimper leaked from his stump. If it was part of the warlord technology, perhaps it could interface with OG tech. So she casually sidled over to where the nailbound were gathering, and while she was looking straight at a bottle of sacrifire held by one of them, she slipped on her ring.
As the familiar blackness enveloped her, she began fishing around the various functions the ring may hide to find a way to identify the sacrifire she had been looking straight at and then set it to an off, or inert state.

Not sure whether her actions had the intended effects, she repeated them with the other eight nailbound that were milling around. That uncertainty whether anything had happened though, prompted Sucy to go and seek out Zapanda, perhaps the Ex-Administrator of Nägel could help her out with understanding how this piece of OG tech works.
As she approached the wagon the researchers were held in, she overheard Zapanda talking to someone, oh, it was Gryph

quote:

... a proposal for you: my comrades are assembling copies of my research to give to you. You can read them at your leisure - though I pray you, in secret - but at your nearest convenience, in a secure, public location… leave it behind. Grimper will kill us when he’s done, I know it, and our knowledge can’t be allowed to be lost. Nagel is as good as lost, and the fool warden ruined everything by releasing the subjects. Those locked down there are good as dead, now that you have the key. It’s too late for them…”

She lurched forwards and seized him by the shoulders, her eyes boring into his. “But it’s not too late for us. For this!” She waggled two tightly wound packages of notes wrapped around two thick syringes. “Leave this somewhere it can be found when the Horde passes by, and strike a blow against Monsterism and Rampancy. I know Frö is your enemy… but we don’t have to be. One day this war will end, and those who work towards a brighter future will be remembered long after the killers on both sides are dust.”

As the conversation finished, Sucy approached the pair. Zapanda, I think we can help each other here. I want this research passed on too, but just leaving it lying around somewhere is going to be risky. However, I've come into possession of an OG artifact that lets me send messages directly to people like this. I could send a message to your sister directly after we drop it off so it can be found by the right people. I need to know however if these messages can be intercepted by anyone, as we can't have Grimper find out about it. Your sister is a Commander and you work with a team that likely used OG tech, can you tell me anything about it?
After she had finished her request, she continued in a more somber tone:And if you want, I can pass on a message for you to your sister, or if any of your colleagues want to pass on something to their families.

With her business with Zapanda finished, Sucy walked over to the Önäger, where the rest of ST6 was already gathering, getting it ready to fire. Her rage at Grimper's gloryhounding had mixed with apprehension about her sabotage and the fate of the Wendigo research. To help ignore it, she started working the crank that drew back the Önäger's arm, kicking it in quick succession to get it ready to fire.

Apparently the plan was "gently caress plans, just go on a rampage while wearing silly armor". Which was a plan Dack could get behind, minus the looking silly bit. Then again, Captain Snödis clearly knew more about fashion than he did, so maybe this was just the style for hulking, mutated brutes?

As the horde marched towards the gate, Dack remembered back to the "training" Grimper had put the original 100 through. Strangely no one was trying to dig under the gate this time, despite how popular that solution was for the training gate, but apparently Gado was too busy with his Siege Team 6 duties. Well, there was still the solution that worked out for Dack before he even realized he was drafted, and there didn't seem to be any reason why it can't work again.

Taking hold of a nearby tree and pulling it out of the ground, Dack moves towards the gate, picking up speed with each step. Once he was close enough, he slammed the tree into the ground and tried to pole vault himself over the top of the walls, but with not quite enough distance to clear them entirely.

He probably could have just jumped up and gotten the same results, but it was hard to let go of all his training. Fortunately, the nearby Frömen were too shocked at the sudden appearance of a mutated horse wearing a shield on its back with a tiny boarlet hiding under the shield, and didn't think to put up a fight until it was too late.

As the tremors of battle-risk shiver across her nerves, Qwäg can't help but let a quiet smile crease her broad, fangly maw as the other Wendigos charge headlong at the wall. Their animalistic purity enchants her, and she, too, feels the call of battle, wherein their kind can be embraced as useful, rather than shunned as other. Still, her growing disenchantment with the countless tiny slights (less tiny when it came to Zapanda), not to mention the the undeniable madness of their Captain, and the almost certain fate awaiting them once they were no longer required to reap lives, all weighed heavily. She had come to realize that if she were to protect the Horde, she might have to protect it against itself, or at least parts of it. The Risk sang to her through the sleepless nights, weaving complex patterns before her eyes, and showing her what diseased flesh she would have to shear from their ranks.

Soon.

But not now.

Now, she had a motley crew of mooks and killers to instruct in the art of mayhem, artfully applied.
"Ţh̵ȩre," she growled, pointing to a stretch of wall where the archers were almost imperceptibly less efficient at renocking their bows. "T҉he͝re, ̴wh͡er̸e͟ ̛t͝h́e҉ ̡r͘e̸load҉ c̷hain is͠ ̵s͠lów̕! T̢he̡i͝r̡ s̴h́o̕d͝dy͟ tim͘e͜-̕maǹa͢geme͜n̛t͟ ͘s͡ki͡l͞ls̨ ́wi͟l͏l͏ ͝s͏ee the̡ir ̵blo͝o̷d̛ ͢sp͟i͞lled̸!͝ B̵̢̤͈̲̠l̶̶̳̲͠o̹̝͍̼͍̺͙͢͢o̼̭̣͉̲d͕͙̖́͜ ̷̻̼͠͞f̛̮̜͎̲̼̟͠o҉̧̯̟̫̻̻̗ͅr̶̢̠̞̺̖̰̲̲ ͏͓͓t̷͎̭̩̣̩ḥ͠ę̛̰ ͕̼̹́A̵̕͏͔̥͚̩̖̤̳͍c̰͖̱̥̯t̨̯͙̫̠̖͞u̻̻̘̲͉͈̻̱͔͟͠a͇̹͝r̶̦͚͉̜͉̕y̡̮͕͙̠̯̤͘!"

Hurling her body at the wall, grasping with tendrils, hooks, and teeth, Qwäg sang a harrowing slaying song as she mantled the battlements and laid into the foe at their weakest point.

Bruised and sore, hogtied and trussed up, with the rasping voice of the enemy Commander ringing in his head... it wasn't looking good. Humbug grit his teeth and blinked at the intimidating shape, while wondering how he kept getting into these kinds of messes. From one kind of imprisonment to another - and this time he did not have Ringo with him to bust him out.

"Hum. And a good morning to you too, Commander Sikatris," he said and smiled stiffly past his fear and pain. He was too far the point of no return - so there was little point to worry what might or might not happen to him now. He'd failed his friends and his Horde -- failed Grimper, too, but gently caress if that wasn't half as important as the first two -- but at least he was still alive. Which meant he could try to make the most of it. It wasn't like one got the chance to hang around (hah) and chat with a Frömen Commander every day. Perhaps he could draw a few thoughts from her if he set himself up to become interesting enough. He certainly had ammunition for the task.

"Humbug the Sleuth, seeker of truths, at your equally misguided mercy," he snarked and struggled against his bindings briefly, before slumping into them, as if he'd just realized there was, indeed, very little but her mercy that kept him from being torn apart by the steely strings.

"Not that I'm ungrateful for a stay of execution. I'm a fair-minded fellow, believe it or not, so I'll volunteer you a little tit for tat."

He took a deep breath, knowing he was moving into dangerous territory to be talking so casually to the enemy. If he survived and Grimper found out... well. That'd be that, too.

"Administrator Zapanda lives, along with nine of her colleagues. They were too useful to harm, given the condition of some of our troops after Nägel - which you can blame your fool Warden for! I won't be worth her in trade if you think of an exchange - the Warlord's treating her like a trophy prize, especially given that some of her treatments seem to be working. One of my friends has staved off becoming a Wendigo by quite a few days already thanks to her efforts, the poor sod."

He could drop that news on Sikatris. It was a valuable, but non-threatening piece of intel that didn't reveal too much of his Horde's own disposition. The survivors from previous battles would've reported tales of Wendigoes among the Unexpectables, so even the subtext wouldn't be so damaging for Sikatris to read into. Sikatris might take steps to arrange for a flanking assault on the Unexpectable camp, though. Hum... he hadn't thought of that. Too late now. He ground his teeth and continued.

"Hum... while we're speaking of Zapanda. She was quite mad that we blamed Frö for the Queen's death - as if she knew something of actual worth. Kept her gob shut, though, not that I blame her - her words would not have found a receptive crowd. I know a thing or two myself, mind you, and being a nosy devil is what gets me into hot messes like these. So... hum hum... would it perhaps interest you to hear the Royal Palace may have been hit by Madmist the night Queen Reina died? Now that is not common knowledge, if my source spoke true. Finding out that you had invented Madmist inoculators in Nägel was something of a surprise... mostly due to there being no corroborating evidence of experiments with weaponized Madmist. That was one of your most secure facilities, so if not there, then where could it have come from?"

He chuckled sourly. He was skirting treason here, consorting with the enemy, but Sikatris was sure to know more than even Zapanda and might give him more of a clue whether his theory was right or wrong.

"I'm no lost dummy, Commander. I might be a fly compared to you, but I can recognize when something's off, even if I can't do a drat lot about it. The Regency Council stepped in fast and the Royal Palace got locked down quick and tight after the murder. War was declared the minute Her Majesty's body was in the ground, capitalizing on our nation's grief. Myself, I was locked up for snooping around, then shunted off on our Warlord's little side-slash-suicide mission. Personally speaking, I have an even colder trail of evidence - the Outbreak in Old Tö-Town five years ago. Given the purge of Madmist in Tö a few decades back, it's incredible it could've cropped up in the middle of the Capitol all on its own - you'd almost have to be cultivating the stuff. Of course, that, too, got hushed up hard. That someone could tell a local luminary like Watch Captain Badbrass to gently caress off from an investigation speaks volumes of who they might have been."

It was almost funny. Humbug had hardly dared breathe a word of his theories to any of his allies for fear of what they'd say to others... and yet here, talking to this mortal enemy, he didn't hold anything back. What was the point, after all? She'd either believe him, or she'd not, and she certainly wouldn't be outing his words to his superior. Not when that superior was her mortal enemy. Still, if word got back... well, that was him done. Not that he was any less done, as things stood.

"Even if - a likely if - some drat redskins conspired to kill our Queen, I must believe they had help. They had some absolute tits up Tö's totem pole crazy enough to play with fire - with Weaponized Madmist - in order to ensure our beloved Queen's murder. You want justice for all the people this war has killed? Tell me something of what Frö knows of this damned affair so that if I survive, I can at least find and make the traitors pay."

It was an earnest play, but he didn't hold much hope it would work - they'd come too far, slain too many, for him to receive clemency and trust - especially if he just sounded like a desperate madman. His only hope was that his play would be enough to let her drop her guard once she'd shut him down. If she did... he had a tiny chance. He couldn't reach for any of his items, stuffed as they were in his coat and pockets - but he didn't need to. There was something he had within easy reach - if only he could brave himself to make use of it.

The decision had been made: the 'shitload of stone and bastards' was the Horde's next target. Hat still felt the anger bubbling away inside her, but took deep breaths and tried to channel that rage towards the Noostrans. Grimper hadn't simply squeezed the life out of her, as a small part of her had feared; but had countered her argument by saying how much stronger the Horde had gotten in the past few weeks under his leadership. A claim Hat found hard to refute. Hadn't she just invented an entirely new piece of headwear? Would the old Hat have been capable of such feats?

Another deep breath. She was an Unexpectable, and she'd follow her orders. The Horde approached the wall and Captain Splut spoke up.

Hat watched as Splut donned the OG artifact mask once again. He'd been keeping a tight grip on it since Öxnyard. Hadn't he himself warned against consectutive uses? She'd have to have a quiet word with him once this mission was done. She looked down at her own clothes; she was still wearing the scarf she'd looted from the supply caravan, said to have come from Sikatris herself. Would the Noostrans recognise it? Would they welcome her as a deep-cover spy, or attack her first for wearing evidence of previous victories against them? Hat quickly removed her scarf, and stuffed it in the hat-making bag.

And finally, the Horde reached the walls of Noostra. Hat scanned the wall, looking for any secret doors that might still be ajar. The thought occured that though the doors were probably well camoflaged from ground level, someone looking from higher up might be able to notice the hinges or fake stone that give the passages away. Hat grabbed her new spear in her hands, and jumped.

As he hauls himself up the wall, Waesh turns to see perfect grace of Ringo and the hulking forms of Dack and Trinh at his sides. 'I do not envy these Fro bastards in front of me right now,' he muses. 'Hope I can keep up!'

Grumbus awoke with a start. poo poo, were they at Noostra already? The last thing Grumbus remembered was that they were marching along, well THEY were, Grumbus was riding on his new pal Ploddins and all of a sudden he felt how soft Ploddins's coat was and he must of dozed off. Luckily, Grimper didn't seem to notice and/or care.

He slid off Ploddins, straightened his new scarf and reported to the boss for his orders. He joined the others in manning the Onager, calmly and patiently helping the people who were new to operating it figure the device out. When it was ready to fire, Grumbus loaded a boomstick into the Onager and pulled a match out of his pocket. Hopefully he had lengthened the fuse enough, it didn't need to be blowing up before it had reached the target. "Ready to fire on your signal, boss!"

"Infiltrators! We're going to find a better way in, preferably before we lose the Nailbound. That's our orders, use whatever means necessary to gain ingress to Noostra. Secret doors, sally ports, murder holes, anything. Everyone else, if you follow my order in this regard then I consider you to be my chosen fifth Infiltrator, with commensurate benefits. As for me, I'm going to ask nicely."

Well, Marra hadn't been to Noostra before, so she didn't know any secret ways in directly. On the plus side, that meant there wasn't likely going to be anyone on the inside who was bearing a grudge, unless her reputation had somehow spread this far. It would be a lot easier to look for the hidden entrances on the inside of the walls.

And, well, working with Splut to fool the Fromans had...mostly worked before, so she approached alongside him. 'Yes, we have information! Vital information! Secret information! We need to get inside, quickly! There isn't much time!'

She'd just focus on backing up Splut's story for now. Maybe they wouldn't get let through a secret entrance, but if they could just walk through the front door, that'd be helpful too.

She whispered to Splut, hopefully inaudible to anyone listening up above, 'Boss, once we're in, I'll look for an opportunity to split off and start looking for entrances. Maybe try making some...local friends. Oh, and you'd probably best come up with a good excuse for why you're wearing Jaune's hat...'Helping to back up Splut's story to ride his coattails into Noostra: 1d100+10+10+1040
Hopefully the whispering wouldn't look too suspicious, even if they couldn't hear...